You can forgive a fool because he only runs in one direction and doesn't deceive anybody. It's the deceivers who make you feel bad.
Charles BukowskiRead
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238 quotes
You can forgive a fool because he only runs in one direction and doesn't deceive anybody. It's the deceivers who make you feel bad.
We can sell our time, but we can't buy it back.
All the reasons which made the initiation of physical force evil, make the retaliatory use of physical force a moral imperative.
If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.
An enthusiastic heart finds opportunities everywhere.
If you have a dream , don't waste your energies explaining why.
To heal our wounds, we need courage to face them.
I can't promise that every child with learning differences will become a novelist, but I do think all children can become lifelong readers.
The only true aristocracy is that of consciousness.
If one lives in a country where racism is held valid and practiced in all ways of life eventually, no matter whether one is a racist or a victim, one comes to feel the absurdity of life....Racism generated from whites is first of all absurd. Racism creates absurdity among blacks as a defense mechanism.
The novelist teaches the reader to comprehend the world as a question.
To speak today of a famous novelist is like speaking of a famous cabinetmaker or speedboat designer. Adjective is inappropriate to noun.
To fear to face an issue is to believe that the worst is true.
Truth is the recognition of reality; reason, man's only means of knowledge, is his only standard of truth.
Ask yourself why totalitarian dictatorships find it necessary to pour money and effort into propaganda for their own helpless, chained, gagged slaves, who have no means of protest or defense. The answer is that even the humblest peasant or the lowest savage would rise in blind rebellion, were he to realize that he is being immolated, not to some incomprehensible noble purpose, but to plain, naked human evil.
I am looking for the novelists whose writing is an extension of their intellect rather than an extension of their neurosis.
Writing is a miracle. You can travel anywhere in the world, to any time and any place — and still be home in time to have dinner.
There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.
Real things in the darkness seem no realer than dreams.
It is in their 'good' characters that novelists make, unawares, the most shocking self- revelations.
Most contemporary novelists, especially the American and the French, are too subjective, mesmerized by private demons; theyre enraptured by their navels and confined by a view that ends with their own toes.
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